


I'm Your Buckaroo, I Wanna Be Like You

by firstdegreefangirl



Series: Buck Days [3]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Again, Buck doesn't want to be in trouble, Chris uses a four-letter-word, Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, M/M, Songfic, Swear Words, based on country music, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: And then my [nine]-year-oldSaid a four-letter wordIt started with 'S'And I was concernedSo I said "son, now where'd you learn to talk like that?"He said "I've been watching you, [Buck] ain't that cool?"
Relationships: Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: Buck Days [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906411
Comments: 10
Kudos: 195





	I'm Your Buckaroo, I Wanna Be Like You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elisela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/gifts).



> I've loved this song for YEARS, but it wasn't until like seven months ago that I made the "Buckaroo" connection. And then, as always, Eli is an incredible bad influence, so we bounced it around until it was a whole entire idea. Then she had a birthday, and what better excuse to put this together? (even if the birthday was like three days ago; life is SO MUCH, and what are dates anyway? Love youuuuu)

Buck looks up and watches Christopher where he’s sitting in the backseat of his Jeep. He’s got both hands wrapped around the foam cup he’s slurping from. His legs are starting to bounce, and Buck questions again if it had been a good idea to let him order the large drink and fries at lunch. 

But Chris had made a compelling argument against the kids’ menu (“you always say I’m your little man, right?”) and Buck has never been any good at telling him no on anything little like this. At the end of the day, he’s out an extra 89 cents for the meal upgrade, but he’s earned the way Christopher had thrown his arms around Buck’s waist and proclaimed him the “best Buck ever!” right there in the lobby of the Arby’s. 

And if that’s not worth every extra penny, well then he doesn’t know what is. 

They’d stopped for lunch on the way out of the pet store, where Chris had all but dragged him up and down the aisles looking at all the different kinds of animals. Birds, lizards, fish, even a couple of rabbits available for purchase, but free to admire. It’s one of Christopher’s favorite ways to kill an hour, so Buck took advantage of an opportunity to turn grocery shopping into something special and memorable for the both of them. 

Which brings them up to now, driving toward the Safeway, Buck’s drink nestled safely in the cupholder. He knows that drinking and driving extends beyond alcohol, leaves one hand off of the wheel for however long it takes him to get a sip and put the cup back. 

If he’d have been in the middle of that just now, there’s no way he’d have avoided an accident. 

Because they’ve just cleared an intersection, watched a sleek little sports car shoot past them at the light, blowing by them so fast that Buck is pretty sure there will be rubber tracks running through the crosswalk. From the glimpse he caught of the driver as she went by, she can’t be more than 17 or 18, out hot-shotting around like she’s trying to get herself killed. 

She may well be, too, if the way she jumps over into Buck’s lane is any indication. She’s only barely clear of the Jeep’s front bumper when she cuts back across the dashed line and taps her brakes. There’s no blinker, no indication that she’s getting ready to move over before she’s right in front of Buck, taillights glaring off the windshield. 

He grits his teeth and slams the brake to the floor, sending the Jeep to a screeching halt. His seatbelt engages, digs into his chest as he lurches forward. The stop bounces his head off of the headrest, a soft _thud_ that reminds him to take stock of the situation. The other car is gone, probably a couple of blocks ahead by now, and traffic is moving around Buck, horns blaring at the way he’s sitting still in the middle of the road. 

It's all happened in the span of a few seconds, but when he looks up, Chris is wearing most of his orange soda, his fingers jabbed into the sides of the cup. It looks like he’d clenched his fingers at the sudden jolt and crushed the foam, spilling all over himself and the car seats. 

Yeah, Buck definitely shouldn’t have let him get the large drink. 

But before he can say anything, ask if Chris is OK, he pipes up on his own. 

“Shit!” 

The enunciation is crystal-clear, each consonant standing on its own. There’s no mistaking what he’s said, no pretending it was “shoot” or “split” or anything else but what it was. 

Buck’s eyes go wide as he meets Christopher’s gaze in the mirror. His first instinct is to ask ‘what did you just say?” just like his own father would have, but they both know, so there’s really no sense in pretending. Besides, that’s just an invitation for him to say it again. 

“Chris, buddy, where’d you learn that?” 

He’s been dating Eddie for a year almost, been part of Christopher’s life for even longer than that. At this point, he’s spent enough time around them that it’s hard to surprise him with the influence he’s had on their lives. 

But nothing, absolutely _nothing_ could have prepared him for the way that Chris is staring back at him when he chirps his reply. 

“You! You said it when you spilled your coffee and said it hurt!” 

_Oh yeah. He had._

_Three or four mornings earlier, he’d been standing in the kitchen, watching the sun come up in the sky over the backyard. Eddie had surprised him, come up behind Buck and slipped his arms around his waist. He’d jumped, sloshing hot coffee onto the back of his hand. And that had startled him so much that he dropped the mug, spilling the rest of the drink across his calves and feet, bouncing the mug off of his toes._

_“Shit” had been the cleanest option he could come up with._

“OK, well, first of all, don’t say it again. Or in front of your dad. Or that you heard it from me first. Second, that’s a grown-up word. It’s not nice, and I shouldn’t have said it, no matter how much the coffee hurt. And third, buddy, I _cannot stress this enough,_ your dad does not need to know. Now,” He raises his eyebrows expectantly. “What are we not telling your dad?” 

“That I said ‘shit!’” 

_Zero for two, Buckley._

But they’re turning into the parking lot now, Buck watching carefully for any more surprises from other motorists. So there’s no time to belittle the point, even if he wanted to. 

“We’ll work on it.” He sighs, resisting the sudden urge to rub his fingers against his forehead. “C’mon, we’ve got to get groceries if you want to eat dinner tonight.” 

* * *

Eddie has just changed out of his jeans, settled into a pair of comfy lounge pants when he hears car doors slam in the driveway. 

His boys are home, and he’s amazed at how much the thought calms him, even though he hadn’t been worked up about anything to begin with. The front door slams open, and he winces, reminding himself that he needs to install a doorstop so the knob doesn't go through the wall. Again. 

But then Chris is launching himself onto the couch, landing half on top of Eddie and knocking the wind out of his lungs. 

“Hey, kiddo.” He takes a deep breath, resituating Christopher to tuck against his side and ruffling his hair. “You and Buck have a fun day?” 

“It was awesome!” He beams at Eddie, a smile so big that he can just about see his molars. 

“Yeah? What’d you do?” Once Chris starts telling stories, Eddie knows that it will be all but impossible to stop him from talking until he’s explained every minute detail of his day, but sometimes it’s tricky to get him started. 

Tonight is going to be one of those nights, he can tell. Chris squints, like he’s thinking, but keeps looking back over at Buck, who’s settled himself on the opposite corner of the sofa. 

“We went to the pet store! And I saw a-a gerbil! And a bunch of fish, and I got to pet a rabbit!” Eddie interjects, sharing his son’s excitement with a gasp, and lets him continue. “Then we had Arby’s for lunch and I got lots of fries, and then …" Chris pauses, looks at Buck again, then finishes all in one breath. “We bought groceries for dinner and drove home and now we’re here.” 

He’s hiding something, Eddie is almost sure of it. He knows his kid, and there’s something afoot here. 

And he doesn’t mind Buck having special memories with Chris, loves that someone else wants to share in every part of his life. He doesn’t want to jeopardize the trust Buck has built with Chris, but he also knows that the kinds of secrets they usually keep from him involve sugar highs at bedtime, tinted toilet water or – on one particularly notable occasion – a frog living in the bathroom sink for two days. 

So he’d just like to know a little bit about what he’s working with here. 

“Is that everything?” 

“Yes?” Chris draws the word out for a whole breath, eyeing Buck warily. 

“You’re sure?” Eddie knows his grandmother had dropped cookies off earlier, but he’ll be keeping that to himself until tomorrow if this is an ice-cream-sundae secret. 

But when Christopher shifts away from him, Eddie begins to wonder if there’s something bigger going on this time. 

Luckily, he doesn't have to wait long until the silence gets the better of his son. 

“I didn’t say any bad words! Definitely not ‘shit!’” 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Christopher’s eyes go wide and his hands fly up to cover his mouth. He turns his entire body to stare at Buck, and when Eddie looks past him, he sees his boyfriend practically vibrating with the force of restraining his laughter. 

Eddie has to admit, it’s a little funny, especially how fast he caved under the pressure. 

At least he doesn’t have to worry about a criminal future for Christopher. 

“Good.” Eddie presses his lips into a fine line, trying to look stern, even as he fights against a grin. “I’m glad you didn’t say that. That’s a word adults use sometimes, but it’s not a good thing to say. When you’re an adult, you can choose if you want to use words like that, but until then, I’m glad you didn’t.” 

When Eddie finishes talking, he looks at Buck again, over the top of Christopher’s head, and winks. 

Chris relaxes visibly, tension sagging out of his tiny shoulders when he realizes that he’s not in any trouble. Eddie reaches forward to squeeze his shoulder gently, waits for him to turn around before he says anything more. 

“Why don’t you go put your clothes away while Buck cooks dinner? Then I want to hear all about that gerbil.” 

He nods, leaning over to hug Eddie, and then Buck, as he stands up. When he’s tipped over against Buck, he rests his chin on his chest, leaning up to look at him. 

“Sorry I said ‘shit.’” Eddie thinks it’s supposed to be a whisper, judging from the harsh rasp in his tone. Nonetheless, the sound carries across the room clear as day, and Eddie and Buck are coughing to cover up twin laughs. 

“Said it again, little man.” Buck wraps his arms around him, his voice strained with the effort to sound chastising. 

“Oops.” Christopher stands up, face turning red. “Sorry.” Buck nods, accepting the apology, and Christopher turns for the hallway. 

Buck looks at Eddie, waiting for him to be out of earshot, and as soon as they hear the bedroom door close, he bursts into chuckles. 

Eddie can’t help but laugh too, sliding across to the middle of the couch. He doesn’t reach for Buck, doesn’t touch him at all, but the urge to be closer to him is too much to resist. 

“So, he knows the S-bomb now?” He raises an eyebrow, waits for Buck to nod at him. 

“A car tried to cut me off and his drink spilled when I nailed the brakes.” 

“Huh,” Eddie brings his arm up along the back of the sofa, trails his fingers across Buck’s shoulder. “Any idea where he might have learned it?” 

If Eddie didn’t know the answer before, he does now, just from the way Buck flicks his gaze away. 

“Not a clue.” Eddie’s got a guess, involving Buck’s bare foot, a puddle of hot coffee and a miraculously unbroken mug. 

“Damn,” He grins and shifts a little bit closer. “We - _I -_ have got to stop swearing in front of him.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty sure I'm making a whole thing of the Buck Days, since i"ve written three of them now. Let me know if there's anything in particular you want to see! I'm firstdegreefangirl here and on tumblr both, drop by and say hello!


End file.
